


Oct. 5th, “I Might Just Kiss You.”

by Morpheus626



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:13:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25062943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: Fictober 2019.Wound care as love? Why not. Love can be anywhere, and almost anything, right?Warnings:mentions of war time death and wound care (nothing overly detailed, just a general mention)
Relationships: Merriell "Snafu" Shelton/Eugene Sledge
Kudos: 6





	Oct. 5th, “I Might Just Kiss You.”

Trench foot was as unavoidable as the blowflies and the filth, or so Eugene had learned. 

Also unavoidable was trying to care for the resulting wounds, with cotton swabs and bottles gentian violet distributed out to the men. Helping others, he was good at it, ‘his old man’s touch’ as a doctor praised as the influencing factor that made him so good. 

On his own?

“Fuck,” he grumbled as he dabbed a a particularly noxious-looking wound on his left foot, the shock of the pain making him drop the cotton to the mud. 

“How goes the battle there, Sledgehammer?” Snafu’s warm drawl was like a choir of angels. Why he was back early from the mess tent hardly mattered, he was here and could maybe be convinced to help. 

“Funny,” he grimaced as he reached for another swab. 

“Thank you. You’re awful funny too, with that routine,” Snafu said, gesturing to the pile of dropped cotton swabs at his feet. “Tryin’ to make it Christmas for us, with all that fake snow?” 

“If Santa will bring me someone to help take care of these, then sure, call it Christmas,” he replied. 

“Give me that,” Snafu laughed, reaching for the cotton. “Stop, you’re just gonna make it worst on your own.” 

He gave up the swab and bottle to Snafu, and leaned back as best he could. The rest camp they were at near the next presumed site of battle had some tents, but only for NCOs, so they were huddled in foxholes yet again.

“I might just kiss you,” he sighed as Snafu sat beside him and set to work, eyes focused on his task. 

“That a promise, or just a maybe?” Snafu asked, not taking his eyes off the wound he was dabbing at, yet Eugene could feel the energy rolling off of him, and knew exactly what look he’d be giving him if he dared to look up. 

It was silent around them. The foxholes were uniformly far apart, so he couldn’t see into the one next to them. 

Which meant no one could see into theirs. 

It was a fast kiss, but as soft as he could make it despite their chapped lips. He pulled away slowly, panicking just slightly at what would happen if he’d misjudged the moment, what energy Snafu seemed to be giving off. 

Snafu’s eyes fluttered open, his mouth open just slightly. He set down the cotton, closed the bottle, then promptly pulled Eugene into his lap. 

This was far riskier, but far better. Despite the unending filth and the stench of death surrounding them, being wrapped in Snafu’s arms, with his lips all over his mouth and neck and face, felt sweet and warm, something wonderful like home. 

He paused only when he could hold back the tears no longer. Pulling away from Snafu’s lips revealed the same for him, eyes red from the silent crying. He’d never seen Snafu look that sad, yet happy, and vulnerable before. 

He slipped off of Snafu’s lap and pulled him close as the darkness settled in around them. 

“We’re gonna get out of here,” Snafu whispered after a few moments, pressing a kiss to Eugene’s neck. “When we do, we’re gonna do it up somewhere fancy. Get cleaned up, go out and dress up real nice. No dead bodies, or mud, or rot on our feet to stop us.” 

“I’d like that,” Eugene replied. The thought of it was a beautiful one, taking a post-war vacation with Snafu, somewhere big and bright where they could just get lost in the city together. “But the part about us gettin’ out of here in good enough shape to do all of that…is that a maybe, or a promise?” 

He had to bite back a moan as Snafu leaned in and kissed him deeply. When he pulled back a moment later, his eyes were warm, but fierce, something not dissimilar to the look he wore during the worst of a firefight. 

“That’s a promise.”


End file.
